


Draco Malfoy and His Quest to Sensibility

by Cleury



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark Comedy, Eventual Romance, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-03-19 06:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3599223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cleury/pseuds/Cleury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A string of events lands Draco in a psychiatric ward where he finds company in Hermione Granger. Too bad she's about as sane as he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Draco Malfoy was not such a complex character but most of his peers seldom realized, blinded by his aloof character and arrogance. Of complete pure-blood descent, his physique showed no ill effects of near incestuous breeding. His straight nose, a reminiscent of his mother's own, combined with his father's set of grey eyes and striking blonde hair created quite an impression. Yet, for all his kempt appearance and his precision in his every word and action, his cruel smirk and habitual scowl encapsulated his personality.

The Malfoys worried little. Following the defeat of Voldemort, they remained an authoritative and prestigious family by changing sides at the appropriate time. Two and a half years since, society on most counts, forgave or forgot their past crimes for associating with the Dark Lord. People were inclined to act magnanimously in front of old and substantial sums of money. The Malfoys stood at the top of the wealthiest and most coveted circles.

Despite all the fortune possessed by the scion of Malfoy, at the age of twenty-one, Draco felt he lived a shadow of his former self and  _nothing_  short of death could possibly tear this thought from him.

"It ends here," Draco announced to himself as he traipsed through the dark. He headed towards King's Cross station. At almost midnight, only the homeless were there. A few eyed Draco up, staring hungrily at his expensive gold watch adorning his wrist, but ultimately, did not act on their greed. The slant and narrowing of Draco's eyes deterred them. The impeccable black cloak around his shoulders fluttered picturesquely, creating the illusion of absolute sovereignty. The homeless man averted his eyes, defeated in the wordless battle of wills. Draco continued his way down the stairs until he reached Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

Inherently paranoid, he made certain of his lone presence before closing his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he lined his heels with the edge of the platform and gently rocked himself back and forth like a pendulum. The lulling effect soothed and readied him for what he planned to do… to jump off the platform and by extension, end his life.

True to his character, Draco's pride dictated his actions. He would not permit his deed to look an accident. On his way to the station he thought about this obsessively:

_"TRAGIC ACCIDENT: Draco Malfoy Trips and Dies."_

Just imagining the headlines on the Daily Prophet, monopolized by the ramblings of Rita Skeeter, churned his insides. He wanted to be clear; he didn't trip, but jumped, of his own accord. Though Draco never cared about how other people  _felt_ , he cared about what other people  _thought_.

"Draco, my dear! Why are you doing this?"

Draco jumped backwards, astounded by the voice behind him. He spun around, saw his mother in tears—Merlin forbid. Her make-up ran down in streaks, and his father was by her side with a grimace on his face, as though he smelt something bad.

"Because—" Draco started. How could his mother possibly understand? Indeed, if he left the world at this moment, most people would fail to comprehend.

But it was simple.

He didn't feel like he was living. He spent a lifetime under extreme pressure from his father, as well as the threat of Voldemort. Pain and anxiety had robbed and filled his childhood and adolescence. He had simply exhausted his emotions and had run out of feelings. Or it might be that he hadn't had anything to trigger emotional arousal since then. Regardless of reason, Draco felt like an empty husk and had lost his emotions one by one.

After the war, entertaining curious guests who wondered how the son of a Death Eater was living annoyed Draco. So he interacted with a very select few, avoiding all other social gatherings unless the hosts specifically asked for him to attend. Slowly, silence began to sink in and enfolded him. It rolled over him, stripped him of thoughts, and shrouded his memories. It wasn't that he didn't  _feel_  anymore. He could still register his emotions, but he felt as though dissociated from them. As though they didn't belong to him. The void indulged in Draco's identity and without definition of who he was, madness grew in Draco's unsettled mind—steering him to the conclusion to end it all, as a life without identity seemed not to be a life worthy of pursuit.

"Kill yourself?" the visage of Draco's father lifted one of his eyebrows and he sneered. "Pray tell son, why are you  _trying_ to commit suicide? This seems to be another thing you  _failed_ at."

"I don't care what you say, I don't care what you think about me anymore," replied Draco. Funny how he had spent most of his childhood fantasising about winning his father's recognition. Then Draco had spent his teenage years wishing he was strong enough to overcome his father's disappointment. Now ice froze his heart and it grew impervious to all forms of attack. Nowadays, Draco wondered why he even cared in the first place.

"I'm not going to  _fail_." Draco put a special emphasis on the last word. His father shook his head at him. "Watch me." He lifted his heels off the ground and fell forward. Feeling as though he landed on a soft mat, he hung suspended in the air for a moment.

Then the protection wards pushed him back, and he fell onto his backside with an undignified thud.

"You never think," his father said from behind him.

The train flashed past Draco who was still sitting on the ground. As Draco prepared to stand up, he heard a whistle and saw a black blur out of the corner of his eye. A guard tackled him. Everything hurt and went black.

* * *

 

Draco remembered something his father said to him once.

"If you ever find yourself in an unfortunate situation where you have trouble recollecting what occurred before you were indisposed, it is worth the effort to make sense of the surroundings and note the presence of others... figure out their intention before you let them know of your regained consciousness."

Draco followed his father's advice. As instructed, his eyes remained closed and he listened for clues of his whereabouts. The ticking of a clock meant his captor had situated him in a building of some sort, frequented, if not a dwelling. He heard a soft hum and tensed. A person. Female and young, he concluded, for she hummed to the melody of a contemporary tune.

Draco opened his eyes slowly and found a woman seated behind a desk. He frowned as he tried to recall her name. She had been a student in Hogwarts and he recalled making fun of her before.  _What was her name?_  She looked at him with a curious expression, her eyes doe-like and tapped her name plaque.

"Luna Lovegood," he read aloud.

The blonde girl nodded, smiling at him. "Very good. Do you know why you were brought here?"

"I was tackled and lost consciousness." He glared at Luna, trying to intimidate her. It seemed to have no consequence as it only served to make her smile wider. Luna Lovegood, unlike the homeless at the station, proved not to be the type to play wordless games. Her head resided in a far-off land, away from societal norms, making it impossible for her to understand the silent rituals of intimidation. Luna laid a hand on her plaque again.

"Therapist," Draco read aloud.  _They brought me to an institution?_

Luna repeated her question, before adding that his mother had sent him there. Draco made no reply.

"Care for a sherbet lemon?" She reached forward to finger a glass bowl. Draco shook his head, feeling sick to his stomach. Luna popped a piece of candy into her mouth. "You will be in here for a little while, just to make sure this kind of thing won't happen again."

Draco shot out of his seat. "I won't, I don't need your help. Show me the exit."

"I'm afraid before you leave this room, you'll have to leave your wand with me. And that pin you have on your tie," she said, ignoring him. "We don't want you hurting anyone or yourself while you're here."

"No," said Draco, trying for the door.

"It's locked."

"Let. Me. Out."

"Not until you give your wand and tie pin. And your belt and tie, please. Don't want to take any chances."

Draco thought quickly. If he pretended to oblige and do as she asked, he could find his way out. Most wizards and witches required a wand to Apparate. Draco however, mastered the skill of wandless Apparition—a talent bestowed to him by the Dark Lord. He supposed Lovegood had no idea of his abilities as he never showed his skill to any of his peers.

"Fine!" Draco threw up his hands, the picture of resignation and undid his tie. Luna stared unabashedly as he removed his belt. Draco threw his removed garments on the floor. He wrinkled his nose for he couldn't remember the last time he acted so much like a prat, but Draco felt no courtesy to the unreasonable and exhaustive woman. "If you want them, pick them up yourself."

Luna held a neutral expression and stood from her seat. "Is there anyone you want to leave a message to? Your mother, perhaps?"

Draco snorted. "Not my mother, she's meddled enough." On second thought, he did have someone in mind. Draco tore a piece of parchment and scratched his message with a quill.

_AP,_

_Stuff came up; I'm going to be away for a bit. Take care of the company._

_DM_

Luna put a hand on Draco's shoulder. Draco folded the paper in four hastily, fearing that someone would look at his message. He handed the piece of parchment it to Luna, "Make sure it gets to him."

"Sure," she replied, her voice betraying no hint of surprise or contempt. "Oh, and be assured all items of your belonging can be collected when you are fit to leave. Come, follow me. I'll show you around."

Draco suppressed a shudder and tugged the sleeve of her shirt, pulling her hand from his shoulder. Luna Lovegood, with her strange personality, lack of common sense and deviant from respected customs, sat near at the top of the list of females he despised. He gritted his teeth and persevered. In a matter of moments, he would be away and rid of that horrid woman.

"Destination, Determination and Deliberation," Draco repeated in his head, picturing his bedroom. Luna opened the door and ushered Draco outside.

"I forgot to mention. There are wards in the wards. You can't Apparate in or out of here." She giggled into her hands. "So I insist, Malfoy. Stay, and you can come out when we deem you fit. Your mother told me you might  _try_  and Apparate out of here. But please don't  _try_ , you might splinch yourself if you attempt to do so."

Draco swore inwardly. What a fool.  _Of course the hospital would set up anti-apparition wards!_  Draco looked around and saw a swarm of orderlies passing before him. It seemed impossible to escape.

As Luna showed him around the complex, the pair weaved through a myriad of corridors and came to a stop in front of a wooden door. "This is your room. You're quite lucky to get a private one. Sometimes when there are a lot of people, you'd be forced to share." She pointed across the corridor and said, "That's the common room, there are a lot of books there, so you don't have to worry about being bored! If you don't like reading, you can watch TV in the dining hall. Otherwise, you can stay in your room all day. But I'd imagine it to be very boring sitting in bed and doing nothing. You can decide. "She shrugged and gave a nod. "I'll let you get settled in then."

Without waiting for a reply, Luna left Draco alone. He didn't bother responding and opened the door to his room. Draco scoffed at the sight before him. The entire area of the room measured not even to the size of his toilet back in the Manor.

"How do you expect me to live in this matchbox?" Draco uttered, clutching the doorknob. He wrinkled his nose at the stench of disinfectant in the air and his eyes zeroed in onto the bed-sheets. The thin cotton sheets looked  _used_. Draco leaned against the door for support, faint from the frightening sight before him. He quietly shut the door and slumped to the floor, taking deep breaths to calm down. Never, not even in Hogwarts had he been subjected to such  _poverty_. He could not bear to stay in such a small room. That decided, he headed towards the common room. Draco held no expectation for the common room except for the faint hope it would be larger and less constricting than his 'bedroom'.

He charged straight to his destination, fearing nothing—for what could be worse than a small room? Almost concurrently, the answer came to him. Through the window he saw what he might describe as his worst nightmare. Draco never likened himself to a dramatic person though recent events did prove him otherwise. He took a few steps back as his face contorted into a displeased frown.

What horrendous spectacle lay before him?

One, bushy-haired Granger.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco groaned and leaned against the door. His face felt stiff with disbelief and the corners of his mouth drooped towards the floor. Draco prepared to walk away when he stopped. He glanced at the window and stared.

Hermione Granger stood top on his list of unpleasant women. Her obnoxious personality and desperation to be right about everything placed her above Luna Lovegood. He saw little of her since the battle of Hogwarts, save a few glimpses at functions. Post-revolution, the diplomatic Malfoy family reformed their ways and reconsidered their stance on blood purism. Everyone was to be free from prejudice and be judged based on their merits alone. The Malfoys did exactly that. They treated everyone equally, though some more equal than others.

"If I knew this would mean having a Hogwarts reunion, I'd have taken Lovegood's offer and choked myself on a sherbet lemon ." Draco sighed.  _No, it can't look like an accident_. A headline floated into his mind :

"DRACO MALFOY: Chokes to Death on a Sherbet Lemon."

His pride would never allow that, and conflict brewed inside of him. He didn't fancy interacting with Granger, but returning to his room meant admitting defeat. It proved that the girl he hated influenced his actions. That was impossible for him to admit.

Draco wrapped his fingers around the door handle and felt his heart beat in odd, raucous jolts. The undesirables of life, for the first time since the Dark Lord's demise, made contact with him. Accustomed to being pampered and catered to his every whim, Draco felt dissension with the universe.

The door closed with a light click behind Draco as he entered the common room. He did his best to block his peripheral vision, but out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Hermione look up at him. Had Draco been less observant, he'd have missed the widening of her eyes before she recovered. So much so, she appeared to be unaffected by his sudden appearance, save for the intrusion into the room.

Draco surveyed the room before him. It was by no means extravagant. Nor did it pass his standards, but at least he didn't feel like someone stuffed him into a matchbox. Noting the bars on the windows, he likened the room to a cage. Draco shot a glance at Hermione.  _A cage inside either a circus or a zoo._

Hermione appeared absorbed in the book,  _The Wizard of Oz,_  in her hands. Draco frowned, bewildered by her lack of reaction. Draco chose a book, before he moved towards the table where Hermione sat. The movement distracted Hermione. She looked up just as Draco took a seat diagonal to her. He intentionally picked the seat having the greatest distance between their persons. His back straight as an arrow, Draco began to read.

Several minutes passed and Draco felt the tingling sensation of Hermione's eyes on him. The feeling did not leave fora long time. Draco shifted in his seat, feeling uneasy from Hermione's scrutiny. He gripped the book tightly and flipped the pages with more fervour, creating loud rustling sounds.

As a formidable man, both in aura, stature and reputation, Draco was used to people staring. Yet, Hermione running her eyes up and down him made Draco feel uncomfortable. Then he began to feel annoyed.  _I refuse to play whatever game she's at_. That in mind, he ignored Hermione. He fixed his gaze on the words in front of him, and refused to look elsewhere. The sensation of discomfort passed when Draco saw Hermione's eyes flicker away, and he glanced at her. Hermione had resumed reading her book.

Silence hung between the two like a thick shroud, and soon the tension between them was unbearable. When Draco discovered he'd been reading the same line three times, he glared at Hermione. It seemed she had satisfied her piqued curiosity. She read on, giving her book undivided attention.

_Now._  Draco took this as an opportunity to scrutinize Hermione. Her face had never been the source of admiration by males and it seemed unlikely it ever would be. But Draco begrudgingly admitted the height of her cheekbones and the narrowing of her chin proved to be captivating. Thick but well-maintained brows slanted downwards as she read with intense concentration. Her sweeping eyelashes flicked up slightly at the ends. Draco scowled at the attention to detail he paid Hermione. At that moment, she chose to look up and caught Draco staring at her. Had Draco been an owner of lesser pride, he would have looked away. But his pride kept his eyes from averting because he didn't want to be seen as weak.

A silent competition began between them. Both refused to be the first to look away. Not a single word passed through their lips. Time stopped as they both pitted themselves against each other.

"Granger."

"Malfoy."

Saying his name broke the curse and they looked away at the same time. Refusing to acknowledge each other further, they turned their attentions turned to their books. Or at least, they hoped it would. They pretended to be focussed on their books . When they were certain the other wasn't looking, they sneaked glances at each other.

Finally, curiosity won over pretence and Draco snapped his book shut. The sound caused Hermione to jump in her seat. "Shouldn't you be off with The-Boy-Who-Refused-To-Die and Weasel-Bee?" he sneered.

"No," said Hermione, her posture defensive.

"Oh, did they  _finally_  open their eyes and scream when they saw you? What are you doing here?"

"Taking a break," said Hermione.

Draco could see from the tightening of her jaw that she tried to ignore the venom in his voice. Draco smirked. The days since Hogwarts seemed to have mellowed her, she was a push-over.

"What about you?"

Draco glared at Hermione. "None of your business."

Hermione sighed and shrugged her shoulders, as though she grew bored of the conversation.

Draco sneered at Hermione. "Aren't  _you_  a flower of courtesy!" he spat. "I suggest you pay me more respect or I'll tell your supervisors how poorly you treat patients."

Hermione snorted and shook her head. "I choose who I respect. Plus, I don't work here—"

"Whoa! I'm not interested in your life story."

"You're the one who talked to me first." Hermione grimaced . Talking to Draco was like drinking medicine: difficult to take in, and difficult to keep down. Not to mention the bad taste in her mouth afterwards.

Hermione's sour face made Draco grind his molars. Her expression reminded him too much of his father. Sensing Draco's annoyance, Hermione gave a cheesy grin.

"Would you stop staring at me? I feel dirty now. I think I need a bath," Draco sneered. "Do you fancy me or something?"

"I'm about as hot as liquid nitrogen," said Hermione, scowling.

"Liquid what?" he repeated. Sheheaved her shoulder past her ears in a shrug. Draco's nostrils flared. He did not like being ignorant.  _I can't think of the last time someone made me so mad_. "Stupid twat," he mumbled under his breath.

Hermione turned red and she slapped her palms on the table. "Listen. I refuse to put up with your insults in silence. I'm warning you. Stop it."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Or what?" he snorted. "Get real! You'll have better luck taming that hairstyle of yours."

"So you refuse to stop."

"Oh," Draco cooed. "I'm  _so_  scared. What are you going to do?"

Hermione glowered as Draco smirked. The perfect princess couldn't make him do anything. He was invincible.

"Nothing," she said, though the expression on her face suggested the contrary.

"A six-year old can tell you're lying. What happened to being noble? I thought you had class."

"Why bother with  _class_  when you're dealing with  _crass_?" said Hermione, batting her eyelashes at Draco.

Draco scoured his brain for an appropriate retort. "Shut it, Granger."  _What kind of response is that?_  Draco decided to spend some time later to think of retorts, so he'd have a few in handy for any situation.

"Trying to plot my death?" Hermione smiled condescendingly at him when Draco glared at her. "Going to drown me in hair gel?"

"I refuse to hear insults about my hair products from someone with a bird's nest for a hairstyle." Draco shot back. _Much better._

Hermione's hand flew up to her hair. Draco smirked, seeing Hermione's smiled wiped from her face. But the moment sped past. Recovering, Hermione clutched her chest. "That one almost hurt. I'm just saying, death by hair gel doesn't sound too frightening."

Draco snorted then chuckled. "No, but it would be a humiliating death."

"Agreed," said Hermione, cracking a smile.

Draco parted his lips , surprised. Hermione's eyes widened. They gawked at each other. The notion of finding each other's retort humorous horrified them.

"Granger, you're so  _putrid_. It'd be better if you stopped breathing," said Draco, stepping his insults up another notch, terrified at the idea of seeing eye to eye with her. "Go away, you don't deserve to breathe the same air as I do!" he made shooing motions with his hands.

Hermione rolled her eyes. They hadn't seen each other for more than a year, but nothing had changed. Draco thought Hermione was a  _smart_ -ass. Hermione thought Draco was  _just_ an ass.

"This isn't Hogwarts anymore," whispered Hermione.

Draco barked a harsh laugh. "So what?"His eyes opened wide in a crude caricature of sympathy. "Oh, no. You don't have Professor McGonagall to run and cry to!"

"It means that, you vile chauvinistic pig," snarled Hermione as she stood up and stomped over to Draco, wrenching the book out of his hands and waving it menacingly in front of his face, "there are no house points to be docked if I decide to smash your face with this book!" She slammed the volume onto the table, and it made an ear-splitting crash.

Draco flinched and shied away. In his younger years, he would have whimpered in this situation. He feared for his safety. For one insane moment, Hermione reminded him of Bellatrix in her fits of rage. Hermione's face flushed pink, and her hair flew in all different directions.  _Just like Aunt Bella when she ran rampant._ But that wasn't the end of the likeliness. The craziness in her eyes scared him most; the same fire lit his aunt's eyes.

Draco sneaked a glance at Hermione. She looked like she'd forgotten about the book and was about to throttle him with her bare hands. Actually, that was the more likely option. Hermione adored reading and there was no way she would hurt him with one of her precious books.

Draco tried to collect himself and calm his quickened heartbeat. "If you want to play rough, all you had to do was ask."

"Ew," Hermione made a face at him, "who would want to do anything with  _you?_ "

"No, that's not the question to be asking  _me._ I mean, just look at me."

"Not without puking."

"I said at me, not the mirror."

"You know, if I had a pie the size of your ego, I could probably solve the world's food crises."

"Draco Malfoy saves the world." Draco smirked. "Sounds good to me."

"You're insufferable!" Hermione said, her face twisting into an unreadable expression. Shethrew her hands in the air and began packing her things.

Draco laughed. "Yes, run along like a good girl! And no, I'm not insufferable. I'm just…" he paused, trying to think of a good adjective for himself.

"Malfoy," Hermione said in a strange, controlled voice as she approached the door.

"Yes, love?" said Draco, his voice laced with honey and poison.

"Go to hell."

Draco laughed cruelly as Hermione slammed the door behind her. He won and had driven her away. Leaning back in his chair, Draco smiled.

* * *

Hermione did not appear in the common room after that. Draco was alone and he basked in the silence. Half an hour before dinner, the door swung open. He glared at the person standing in the doorway. He hoped to scare them away with his expression of disgust.

"There you are. I looked for you in the food hall, but I guess you're a television fan?" said Luna.

Draco sighed and snapped his book shut. "What do you want, Lovegood?"

"Now that you've settled in, we need to have another session," Luna sat on a chair opposite him. She took out her notepad and quill while smiling eerily at Draco.

"I don't want to talk," Draco said stonily.

"Listen and comment when you want," Luna suggested. The quill beside her started to make awful scratching noises.

Draco grunted and closed his eyes.  _Please, please disappear._

"Earlier this morning, you were at King's Station where you attempted to throw yourself off a train platform. Can you confirm or deny this?"

Draco glared at Luna but made no reply.

"The wards pushed you back onto the platform. The station security members brought you here under your mother's instruction. Your mother wants you to stay until you feel better," Luna continued, looking up at Draco. He scowled at her but she did not seem put off by his expressions. "How do you feel about that?"

"Nothing, Lovegood," said Draco. "I don't feel anything about anything."

"I see," said Luna shortly. Then she leaned in closer and whispered. "You've met Hermione?"

Draco sneered at the sound of the girl's name. "What? Did she tattle-tale on me?" Draco laughed and his shoulders shook. "Should've known. Old habits die hard."

Luna perked up. This marked the first time Draco spoke up since the interview started. "What do you think of Hermione?"

"A know-it-all and self-righteous stuck-up," said Draco with the same fluidity of ordering his daily coffee. "I wonder why she has friends."

Luna nodded, not because she agreed with the description gave Hermione, but to encourage him to continue speaking. "So you don't hate her because she's muggle-born?"

Draco's head snapped up and he held his silence for a moment.

"When I asked you why you hated Hermione, you didn't even mention her heritage," Luna said, peering at Draco as though he was a curious zoo specimen. "I thought that would be the first thing you'd say."

Draco hesitated and collected his thoughts. He still disliked muggles, but hadn't been vocal about his hate as it was no longer politically correct to do so. Plus, he rarely associated with them. Since they were out of sight, they were out of mind.  _Until now._

"Have your thoughts on bloodlines changed since the war?" asked Luna.

"My hatred for Granger has little to do with how I feel about blood." said Draco, looking straight at Luna but evading the question. "If anything, the war cemented what I thought of her. An obnoxious know-it-all."

"Hm."

Draco scowled at Luna's reply. It wasn't fair. If he didn't answer, the woman would probably take it as an affirmative statement and he would be locked up and away for not being nice. "I haven't given any thought to muggles for quite some time." He often weighed his words before speaking. Even more so withthis touchy his father was sentenced to life-long imprisonment in Azkaban for his war crimes, Draco watched what he said to strangers.

"All right," said Luna, writing a few comments onto her notepad.

The way Luna treated him like a lab-rat annoyed Draco. She documented and analysed his every move and action, and it drove him insane. "Why do you keep asking me about Granger?"

"It was the first thing you responded to when I was speaking. And… sometimes old habits die hard."

"What?" seethed Draco.  _Is she quoting me to annoy me?_

"What you said earlier, it's true. Do you hate Hermione?"

"Believe me, the way I feel about Granger has not changed a bit since Hogwarts." Draco snorted. "Don't talk about her anymore. She leaves a bad taste in my mouth."

"One final question," pressed Luna. She could see the last threads of Draco's patience fraying.

"Fine, but you'll leave me alone for the whole day."

Luna nodded, omitting the fact it would be his last session until tomorrow anyway. "Deal."

"Go on, then."

"Do you feel happy?"

Draco laughed harshly. "Let me enlighten you. I have money and a large manor at Wiltshire. I am head of the Malfoy house. No one can tell me what to do, and contrary to popular belief, I have people I get along with. If that's what you  _define_  as  _happy_  then I'm fucking ecstatic. But didn't I tell you before? I don't feel anything." Draco opened the book in front of him. "Don't bother me with your stupid questions anymore."


End file.
